Doppelgänger
by Blackdeer7
Summary: What if Liara T'Soni was not who she appeared to be? What if she had always seen eye to eye with her mother? What if she had willingly worked for Cerberus after the Commander's death? This is the tale of an asari researcher who is devoted to her mother, a patriot to her people and who will stop at nothing to attain her goals.
1. Belief

Author's Note:  
This is a tale which shows Liara T'Soni in a different light- slightly askew from the one depicted in ME1, but not so far off from ME2 and ME3. Enjoy!

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Belief

I have attained my objective. All of my effort and diligence- the sacrifices, the lies, the deceptions, have finally come to their fruition. The secrets of the universe now dance beneath my fingertips and I will use that information in any way necessary to further my goals. For too long the asari have stuck to a model of coherence when interacting with the galactic communities and shaping galactic events. Harmony and balance have always been the focus of my species when dealing with the galaxy outside their borders, but in order to survive and grow, we need to change our ways. With the rising tide of dark incidents occurring throughout the galaxy, we do not have the luxury of time to wait for evolution to recondition our perspective. If the asari are going to have a foothold in shaping the galaxy then we need to transform ourselves now. My mother once told me that there are times when a catastrophe is needed to promote change.

My name is Liara T'Soni. I am the daughter of Matriarch Benezia. I am the Shadow Broker.

I _am _a one woman catastrophe.

How I ended up here could never have been foreseen nor could it have been pre-planned. Too many inconsistencies and uncertainties existed; too many variables had been in play to accurately calculate this final destination. For all of their wisdom and intelligence, neither my mother nor the Illusive Man could have predicted this outcome. It was definitely not in my plan, but such as life weaves its way through time, I had to weave my way through life.

My mother raised me to believe that the asari should have a greater role in shaping galactic events and over time I made that mantra my own. I saw the wisdom in her words and devoted myself to that belief. Early in my childhood, she shared with me the knowledge that the Protheans were the founders of the galaxy's technology and that the Mass Relays were left over from an age before the Protheans roamed freely among the stars. The disappearance of the ancient race remained an elusive mystery, but I always felt that unraveling the events surrounding their exodus would be a pivotal moment in the galaxy's history. Armed with this belief, I devoted myself to Prothean lore in the hopes of uncovering their demise and thereby bring power and enlightenment to the asari. Knowledge is power and those who had the key to understanding the Protheans had the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe. So with my mother's blessing, I pursued the Protheans to the exclusion of all else.

Seven years ago, my mother approached me and asked for assistance. She told me of Saren Arterius and her intention to side with him in the hopes of guiding him along his journey. I did not like her involvement with him and voiced my displeasure, but ultimately she was a Matriarch and my mother, so I deferred to her judgment and what was thought to be greater wisdom. She enlisted my aid in the search for a Prothean device known only as the Conduit. For the next three years I devoted my research to the sole goal of finding that artifact and eventually found myself on Therum, a mining planet in the Knossos system of the Artemis Tau cluster.

A month into the research, on a day much like any other day on an archeological dig site, I was informed that a system Alliance ship had landed on the planet close to my base camp. When I was notified that the geth detail assigned to me had been decimated and the interlopers were headed toward my location, I took the precaution of encasing myself in a Prothean stasis field. First impressions have a lasting impact and if I was found and seemed defenseless, then subterfuge would be on my side along with the power it wielded. Commander Shepard, joined with a turian and krogan, arrived soon after asking questions about my mother and demanding answers. I played the role of a frightened, helpless victim which worked out to my advantage when the rest of the geth and the krogan battlemaster working for me perished at the hands of the newest Council Spectre.

I was taken to the Normandy and subjected to an impromptu crew tribunal. I held true to my ruse of being unaware of my mother's motivations and involvement with Saren and after some deliberation I was informed of the Commander's contact with the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. I was fascinated and intrigued by this unprecedented chance to delve into Prothean history and also by the opportunity to discover all the Council knew about my mother and Saren. Like all asari children, I had been schooled in the various techniques of melding with another's mind. When I came of age, I had chosen to practice this skill with the lovers I had taken to my bed, so I was confident in my ability to join my mind with another. However, the experience of joining with Shepard had been unlike any other I had encountered before. The chaotic imagery of the relic and the human mind's intrinsic resistance to the joining had been exhausting and debilitating to navigate and I only came away with fragmented visions. I was also surprised by the Commander's revelation of the Protheans' extinction by the Reapers, but believed it to be true, as there was remarkably little evidence of the Protheans' existence—as if something or someone did not want the mystery of their extinction solved.

Shepard kept me on the Normandy which suited my goals perfectly—I would be able to assist my mother by keeping an eye on her pursuer. To facilitate my deception, I continued with my personae of being shy and naïve. Having never been around humans, I was surprised by how quickly and easily they jumped to the false conclusion of their superiority over another species—a sign of low-self esteem and self-worth. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was particularly reticent in pointing out my faux ineptness when deciphering social cues. She did not hesitate to make a snide commentary regarding my social misconduct but neither did she take into account that she was measuring my transgressions upon human customs. She did not bother to research asari culture; therefore she had no base knowledge of similar asari customs. The Gunnery Chief's actions wrapped arrogance and stupidity in the same package. Humans were becoming more efficient every day.

The only humans to step out of that superiority mold were Shepard and Dr. Chakwas, but out of the two I believed only the doctor's interest was sincere. While amusing more than off-putting, the Commander's attentiveness resembled someone making their customary rounds, as though talking to each member of the crew was just another checkpoint on a list of things to do. I told the truth when speaking about my culture and my genuine interest in the Protheans, but when questions about my mother arose I held true to the deception of having had no contact with her. During those discussions and while researching the commander's personal and military history, I focused my attention on deciphering the Spectre's motivations. It is much easier to lie once you know what your listener wants to hear—just keep it simple and only tell part of the truth. Half-truths can cause your listeners to arrive at false conclusions. In this way, if your listeners realize that they were misled you can still say that you told only truths. Over the many months of talking with the commander and interacting with the crew, I grew weary of the tedious duplicity, but I continued the illusion of naivety and found humor in the thought of ever being that innocent.

While living among humans for the first time, I found myself drawn to their innate physical diversity. The color of their eyes, the coarseness and shape of their hair, and the pigment of their skin were all nuances that piqued my curiosity. Until meeting Ashley Williams, I had never before seen brown eyes. She and Kaidan shared a similar hair color, but the difference of thickness and texture was easily discernable by eyesight alone. Even their androgenic hair—body hair—was a fascination. It not only provided tactile sensory input by transferring hair movement and vibration via the shaft to sensory nerves within the skin, but it also aided heat transfer into and out of the body. Men had more visible body hair than women, which I discovered was a byproduct of producing more testosterone. It was such an intriguing evolutionary trait. Asari, turians and krogan have no hair, so being in the company of a species that did was fascinating.

They also smelled. Their odor was generally not unpleasant—many used some form of perfume or another to mask their natural musk—but even this trait was as diverse as their hair styles. Another interesting facet was the impressive adaptability of human biology to any environment. This ability to rapidly adapt to varying environmental conditions made it possible for them to survive in most regions. They lived successfully in humid tropical forests, harsh deserts, arctic wastelands, and even densely populated cities with considerable amounts of pollution. Even their skin adapted to the rigors of their environment by forming thick layers—called calluses—over roughly treated areas.

I was so fascinated by the uniqueness of crew members that I spent much of my time cataloguing the various combinations of their diversity. I wanted to investigate the dissimilarities more closely—touch the hair, feel the skin—but kept myself at a distance. The researcher in me was shelved and instead of studying human peculiarities, I focused on learning as much as I could about the Spectre's mission.

To further gain trust, I lent myself, my biotics, to away missions. I had been trained by my mother's commandos and already had a mastery over many biotic powers, but once again I played down my aptitude. As the weeks grew into months and Shepard included me on more away missions, I increased my repertoire and biotic force. I was amazed that no one questioned my ability to create a singularity or form a solid, continuous stasis field. Apparently human biotics were not very astute or knowledgeable about the control one needs to manifest such fields of energy because Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko never questioned me or asked where I had learned such feats. Not all of my gained proficiencies were a ruse though. Much like any muscle, the more you use it, the more power and control you attain. Only one individual watched me with untold suspicion—the krogan, Urdnot Wrex. Even though over time his gaze softened there was always an ever-present alertness poised in my direction, as if he were expecting something to happen.

Another way in which I maneuvered my way into a position of trust was by alluding to an interest in Shepard on an intimate level. This proved to be more difficult than I imagined because of my initial ploy of shyness. Eventually though, I successfully established the ruse. For a human, Shepard was more appealing than most, but my interest was for intel purposes only. The closer I was to the Spectre, the more accurate my information on the mission became which allowed me to assist my mother in her quest to help guide the galaxy into its next evolution.

When we reached Feros, I went with Shepard and the quarian, Tali'Zorah to the planet's surface. The geth had attacked a human colony, Zhu's Hope, but the Spectre discovered the root cause of their interest had been generated by what the colony had uncovered: Species 37, the Thorian. The ExoGeni Corporation, the colony's sponsor, had allowed unsanctioned experiments to be conducted on the gullible human colonists. When the geth attacked, the colonists, now thralls of the Thorian blocked the entrance to the ancient alien's lair with their wrecked ship and defended the entity with their lives.

Shepard found a way around killing the enthralled colonists and took the extra steps and measures to ensure no unnecessary deaths occurred. A human sparing other human's lives did not surprise me, but what did surprise me was the Spectre sparing the life of the manipulated asari acolyte, Shiala. She and I had never met, so I was not concerned that my mother's minion would betray my existence, but her words about Saren's influence sparked fear in my heart for my mother's safety.

Almost immediately after Feros, we travelled to Noveria to intercept my mother, Matriarch Benezia. Before our arrival, I sent an encoded message to her warning of our intended destination in the hopes that she would flee. When we landed on the icy planet, I found out that she had not fled but instead had travelled up to Peak 15 for reasons unknown. Before pursuing her, Shepard confronted me and asked with whom my loyalty resided. I lied and said it was with the Spectre's quest, when in truth I was fully prepared to end the Spectre's life if it meant saving my mother's. I was not as gracious as the human.

When we finally reached my mother, more of Saren's plan was uncovered and the truth about the Reaper ship, Sovereign, was revealed. My mother was not in her right mind nor was she in control of her own faculties. Seeing a strong-willed, beautiful woman so violently dominated by Sovereign's will was unsettling on many levels, but somehow she was able to isolate a part of her mind away from the tendrils of indoctrination. To the credit of her amazing strength of mind and tenacity of will, she broke free of the Reaper's control and gave us much needed information. Her freedom did not last long though and Shepard was forced to kill her.

I was devastated. I showed nothing to the other crew members but within I was consumed with grief for the woman whose constant guidance and love had just been violently ripped from my life. The scene on Peak 15 played over and over in my mind—it just would not leave my thoughts—but I could come up with no other way for it to end. Her indoctrination had been too great. The thing she had turned into was but a pale husk of the woman she once had been and its death served to honor my mother, not disgrace her. So I steeled myself to the grief, brought to mind the moment she called me 'little wing' and vowed that her death would not be in vain. I knew that my mother's words of warning were for me and her message was loud and clear—Saren and Sovereign had to be stopped. In that moment a shift I never expected occurred—I was now aligned with Shepard's goal.


	2. Progression

Progression

"I am not myself; I never will be again." Those were my mother's words on Noveria. To this day, their chilling implication and the weary, matter-of-fact tone in which they were spoken still haunt me.

Indoctrination. Enslavement. Subjugation. You may physically free the slave, but will the slave ever truly be free? I have often wondered whether or not Shiala feels free of the Thorian. I suppose I should go back to Feros and ask if Shepard's choice to not kill her was a blessing or a curse.

If I am ever possessed in such a perverted fashion, I hope I have the tenacity of mind to end my own existence. I have difficulty imagining that the taint of such enslavement could ever be scrubbed away.

My mother's death did not change how I felt about being on the _Normandy_. I hated it. I hated being confined to the med lab. No windows, no scenery, no smells, no fresh air, no night sky. Everything was artificial and it grated on my nerves. I wanted open air and freedom. I wanted to see the stars, feel a cool breeze upon my skin, smell the sweet floral scents within the air and hear the sounds of animals and insects around me. Instead I felt as though I was held prisoner in a glorified storage room with gun-metal grey walls that could dampen the brightest person's mood. I was accustomed to space flight, but not being confined to one small frigate for an extended period of time. Especially one crowded by humans.

Other than Dr. Chakwas and Shepard, I did my best to avoid the Alliance crew. Being around them just reminded me of my isolation. Because my Prothean research took me to remote corners of the galaxy, I was comfortable with being alone, but regardless of where my studies led me I knew I could contact my mother when I felt lonely. Or if not my mother then my close friend, Azrial, a commando who had worked for my mother before she joined with Saren. Azrial had tutored me in hand to hand and biotic combat while I lived on Thessia. When I left home to help my mother, the training stopped, but our contact did not. Once I set foot on the _Normandy_ though, all outside contact with friends ceased. I knew the Alliance would monitor all incoming and outgoing message along their network which is why I made sure to only send messages to my mother while on the Citadel at the asari embassy. Our messages were also encrypted using a key only known by the two of us. I was nothing if not fastidious when it came to my mother and our correspondence.

Looking back upon those messages I can see the slow degradation of my mother's mind and will. Insidious and subtle. If Saren were in front of me now I would rip his heart out with my bare hands and obliterate its essence with a biotic explosion. I do not care that he was a victim of Sovereign. I do not care that he fell to indoctrination. His weakness caused the death of my mother and for that he needed to suffer throughout eternity.

In an attempt to distract myself from feeling like a caged varren, I focused on one thing I loved—research. When I was not engaged with studying Prothean artifacts, I entertained myself by collecting data about the crew. Some people were easier to profile than others—Dr. Chakwas in particular. She was an intelligent woman—considerate and nice—who carried an air of wisdom around her. In some odd way she reminded me of my mother and I took great comfort in her presence amidst the aftermath of Noveria. Being older, by human standards, granted her an uncommon wisdom which I appreciated—most humans seemed volatile and impulsive to me. The doctor's methodical yet caring approach to the people around her was a trait she shared with my mother. In fact, I think she enjoyed having someone near to talk with because she was always finding reasons to enter the med lab. I did not mind though, her colorful stories and anecdotal commentary helped to ease my time on the _Normandy_.

Although the crew was composed mostly of humans, I was more interested in gathering information about the non-human members. I found it peculiar that a krogan, turian, quarian and—if I am to be honest—an asari were all following behind the footsteps of a relatively young human. For this reason I paid particularly close attention to the Spectre's interplay with us individually and how each of us responded. While surreptitiously observing various exchanges, I noticed that Garrus was fond of using humor as a way of deflecting his insecurities and seemed to look to Shepard as a mentor. I overheard the turian speak about his father—a strict, autocratic man who curtailed his son's chances to be in the turian Spectre program. I wondered what the older Vakarian would have to say about Garrus' choice in counsel. I used Ashley's distrust of the turian as a bonding point between us which worked to my advantage when he spoke of C-Sec rules, regulations and the various ways people had smuggled items through the Citadel. Knowing how individuals were apprehended was both useful and valuable. It guaranteed that my correspondence with my mother went undetected, and unbeknownst to me at the time, it would become a source of income in the future.

As for Wrex, I gathered what information I could about the krogan while on missions or in the company of others. He already had a watchful eye on me, so I kept my surveillance limited to occasions when we were surrounded by numerous others. I did not want to bring any more of his attention to myself than necessary. Of all the individuals on the _Normandy_, he was the one I was most concerned about seeing through my deception of innocence. He was more than just a brute or a simple-minded krogan mercenary; he was observant, calculating, and deadly, all of which made him complicated _and_ a complication.

Wrex did not speak often, but when he did his words were direct and often shockingly blunt—that tended to get people to listen. I respected his deep concern for the fate of his people and his thoughtfulness regarding the effects the genophage on the cultural progression of his race. Both of which were unusual for a krogan to voice. Apparently over the centuries, Wrex had come to believe his people were wasting their time by focusing on mercenary work, seeking out battle and proceeding to finish off what the genophage started. He believed their numbers were too few to carelessly throw away; therefore he wanted to focus on rebuilding the krogan community and rebuilding Tuchanka. In order to save themselves, his people needed to change. I understood this need, because I wanted something similar for my people, who had become complacent boors by means of their privileged position in galactic society.

I happened to be with Wrex and Shepard when the krogan's family armor was found and subsequently he told me the story of how it had become lost. After having witnessed Wrex in combat, I could only imagine the scale of battle that must have taken place between him and his father. While recounting the tale, the Battlemaster appeared unfazed by the fact that he had killed his own father, whether that was because it was a century's old act which no longer had an emotional impact or because he was truly apathetic to the deed still remains a mystery to me.

The individual who I felt was most underrated was the quarian, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Many seemed to think that she was like my pseudo persona—young, naïve, innocent. By their lifestyle on the flotilla alone it would be foolish to ever consider a quarian as being naïve. The galactic community views them as nomadic scavengers who are responsible for all transgressions caused be the geth. The grievances are not unwarranted considering the fact that the quarians unwittingly created a sentient synthetic AI and then proceeded to lose control of it, being ousted from their home world in the process. Because of this ostracism though, quarian life is filled with hardship and is a life mainly focused on survival.

Growing up with such an unpopular galactic image—being seen as beggars and thieves—and in an environment which survives by salvaging any resource within proximity could not be easy. Add to that the fact that from birth all quarians have to live in an enviro-suit, and it creates the foundation for a resourceful, technologically gifted individual who is hyper-vigilant and wary of all non-quarians.

In terms of Tali though, people seemed to forget that without her data on Saren, Shepard would not have become a Spectre and been given the authority to hunt down the turian. Data that the quarian collected by effectively evading multiple geth troops and then isolating and single-handedly disabling a unit, extracting its memory core before it self-destructed. I had never before heard of anyone being able to accomplish such a feat. This was impressive especially considering that most turn and run when confronted by geth, not systematically stalk and dismantle them.

People also tended to forget that while being chased by the turian mercenary, Jacobus, she trapped him in an incinerator and burned him alive. Innocent was not a word that I would ever use to describe Tali'Zorah. The quarian was a survivor and under that armor was a person that could be capable of cold, calculated ruthlessness.

I used our mutual innocent image and the fact that we both only had one parent as the starting points of our interaction. Originally she was suspicious of me, not surprising considering what she had learned about the disdain of other races while in the Migrant Fleet, but over the course of weeks she eventually opened up to me. Once that happened, I discovered that she was a rambler who liked to talk. At first she spoke of ships and engines, but when she realized I had no common ground on those subjects she shifted her topic to life in the Flotilla. In particular, she spoke of her militant father and how after her mother's death, he all but disappeared from her life. As much as she tried to please him, she never felt noticed or worthy of him. With this in mind, she had vowed to herself not to return from her pilgrimage until she had found a gift worthy of her father.

I related well to Tali's father's sudden absence and her inability to find a way to reconnect with him. As close as my mother and I were, there was one subject that she refused to touch upon—my father. My mother's union was with another asari, which I assume lent itself to many social complications, not the least of which was my birth. Having two asari parents was taboo in contemporary asari culture—one that branded such offspring with the disparaging label "pureblood."

I had always been curious about my father, but the one time I was brave enough to broach the subject my mother became visibly agitated and forbid any further discussion. The distress and undeniable sadness within her eyes was enough of an answer for me to never speak of my father again.

After gathering all the preliminary data on the non-human crew, I had to laugh ruefully. I had identified a common bond between us. Apparently we all had—as humans say—_daddy issues_.

Not long after Noveria the _Normandy_ made a short stop at the Citadel to replenish supplies and then we headed to Virmire. That was the infamous place where the depth of our conflict was fully realized and where sacrifices occurred on many fronts. First there was Shepard's forceful intervention from which Wrex reluctantly agreed to spurn Saren's genophage cure. From what I saw of Saren's krogan, which were nothing more than mindless brutes, I believe Wrex made a wise choice.

Then, as Shepard, Wrex and I travelled through Saren's base, we discovered another Prothean beacon. I saw firsthand its raw power and terrifying magnificence as it linked with the commander sending another vision into the human's mind. I was in awe. To finally see and be in the actual presence of a working Prothean artifact was a life affirming sight. I knew then that those many years spent researching and digging for any clues regarding the ancient civilization were not spent in vain.

Right after the event, Saren's supposed vessel—Sovereign—revealed itself via hologram to us, and proceeded to extol a monologue about the futility of organics attempting to repel the Reapers. The Spectre retorted with a few choice words but not before we learned some valuable information about the 50,000 year cycle. Even through the holographic interface Sovereign looked and sounded imposing. Engaging with a sentient machine that predated the Protheans was beyond imaginable. It was thoroughly terrifying.

In order to wipe out the cloned krogan, we planted a bomb at the breeding facility and then raced to the AA tower where we encountered Saren. As he and Shepard faced off, Wrex and I focused on the outlying geth troops. I did not hold back. At that moment I cared nothing for pretense or subterfuge, I wanted to vanquish the geth around me so I could make it to Saren and rip his head off. When I saw the turian Spectre grab and raise Shepard by the throat the image of my dying mother flashed before me and instantly I was consumed with fury. I lashed out with a singularity—its strong gravitational force slowing Saren and all geth in his vicinity, and then immediately followed with a biotic combination taught to me by Azrial. I raised a barrier on Shepard for protection and gathered all of my remaining energy and will into a warp field which I threw at Saren. The resounding biotic explosion that resulted was deafening, and its shock-waves made the whole structure tremble. In its aftermath, Saren was still standing but visibly stunned—his shields had taken the brunt of blast, while the geth troops surrounding us had been annihilated. A second later, Shepard hit Saren with a right cross which broke the turian's hold. Wrex, Shepard and I bombarded the turian with all we had left, but he was still able to escape.

I remember dropping to my knees in both exhaustion and frustration as hot tears burned at the rims of my eyes and clouded my sight. My mother's killer had just slipped through my fingers.

On the periphery of my mind, I heard Wrex chuckle and say something about big things coming in little blue packages. That is when Shepard gently grabbed my arm, helped me to my feet and quipped, "It's always the quiet ones." I met the Spectre's gaze which was a mixture of concern and curiosity, but did not say anything. Instead I took a deep breath, nodded and then focused on getting off of the planet. I had no energy left for pleasantries or subterfuge. If I wanted Saren dead, then I had to keep moving.

The last sacrifice of that day was the death of a crew member. I never particularly liked Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, but neither did I wish his demise. In life I found Kaidan annoying and his commentary to be insipid; my views did not change with his death. However, his sacrifice saved the squad of salarians and Ashley Williams while also striking a major blow to the enemy by destroying Saren's base and the krogan cloning facility. I may not have liked him, but his death was not in vain.

After escaping Virmire, I melded with Shepard once again in order to help make sense of the vision given by the Prothean relic. From my research, I was able to recognize the location of the Conduit—it was on the planet Ilos. The commander knew we had to return to the Citadel to notify the Council and to ask for reinforcements. Even without the krogan, Saren and Sovereign had amassed a considerable army of geth troops.

During the debriefing, the Council proceeded to ignore Shepard's warnings about Saren, Sovereign and Ilos, but the greatest betrayal came when they locked down the _Normandy_. In that moment, Councilor Tevos epitomized those very asari traits that I rallied against—ineptness and obtuse vision—which only reaffirmed my belief that something needed to change within my people's view of the galaxy. They were too complacent and the entire galactic community would be the ones to ultimately pay the price of their apathy.

Once the meeting had been adjourned, I found the Spectre taking refuge just outside the _Normandy_'_s_ medbay. It was somewhat unsettling to see the commander in such a disheveled, broken state. There was a pathos in Shepard's resignation, which would have been painful to witness had I not known it was merely a phase along the human's journey. I know a little of the frustration that the Spectre was feeling because without the _Normandy_ and its crew, my chances to confront Saren and deliver retribution all but disappeared. Some say that being a member of a long-lived species gives a "big picture" view of life which then tempers death when it occurs. That is hugely erroneous. My mother's death was like a festering wound within me and I imagined that Shepard, the one who had decided Alenko's fate, felt similarly.

If I was going to avenge my mother, I needed Shepard's help, so I spoke to the commander about all that we had accomplished and demanded that the many sacrifices not be left without meaning. This time it was my hand that reached down and pulled the Spectre to a standing position. An unexpected electricity coiled between us as our eyes locked in a silent but intense exchange. When Joker's voice came across the comm, our lips were almost touching. Startled, I jumped away. I had not planned to kiss the commander, but Goddess, it was as if the force of a magnet had inexplicably drawn us together.

I quickly excused myself and headed to the med lab. I did not have to wait long for something to happen, though. Within a few hours Shepard had high jacked the _Normandy_ and its crew—both human and non-human—and we were on our way to the Mu Relay, which would then take us to Ilos.

I knew the _Normandy_ going after Saren and Sovereign alone was a suicide mission, but I did not linger on that obvious fact. If the asari Councilor was going to do nothing to help shape galactic events, then I was determined to set an example for our people myself. Plus, there was also the added perk of being able to hunt down Saren. I was well aware that I might meet death by the following day, but instead of dwelling on the negative, I focused on what it felt like to be alive. With that in mind, I went to Shepard's cabin. The electricity that passed between us earlier that day was still throbbing through my veins and since in all likelihood we would not have another opportunity, I wanted to consummate my desire. I wanted to feel alive one last time before the end of all things.

The commander's quarters were sparse but efficient. As an archeologist, I appreciated both of those traits. I had no fear about Shepard's interest in me. Over the course of my stay on the _Normandy_ I had deliberately shown just enough to indicate an interest and had spent a great deal of time analyzing the commander's involuntary responses when in my presence. Dilated pupils, rapid and shallow shifts in breathing, small fleeting smiles and occasional light touches upon my shoulder or arm—all indicators of sexual attraction. Armed with that knowledge, I wasted no time explaining my reason for being in the commander's cabin—"this may by our last opportunity to show each other how we feel." The Spectre was a romantic, so I had calculated that such an admission of interest would get me what I wanted.

Without pretense Shepard's arms boldly enfolded me and our lips met for the first time. I was captivated by the tender supple feel of the kiss, and enthralled by the gentle play of give and take that rose between us. A disorienting aura wrapped around me, both lulling and exciting as I fell into the sensual decadence of the human's physical dichotomy. Discovering the soft, smooth skin along with its blazing heat was magical, and considering the commander's strength, it surprised me with its satin fluidity and pliability. Hands captured my waist and pulled me closer, which fanned the heat pervading through my body to almost unbearable levels. An erotic play began amidst our supple, warm lips and moist tongues being woven together in a tantalizing slow dance… and then Shepard pulled away.

I was stunned to say the least—first, because the Spectre stopped and second, because I did not want it to stop. In an attempt to explain, Shepard admitted to wanting to be with me, but said that the mission took precedence. Focus was needed so that the operation would be a success.

Dumbfounded, I stared at the commander for what seemed like years, but was only a brief second. I nodded, said I understood and then returned to the med lab. I berated myself for losing control, but rationalized that the magnitude of our objective had influenced my erratic behavior. I also laid blame on an entirely different reason—the fickleness of humans.

Within a few hours we had traveled through the Mu Relay and in a bold move, landed on Ilos with the Mako. Shepard, Garrus and I fought our way through geth troops and then discovered, Vigil, a Prothean virtual intelligence. It helped us understand the fate of the Prothean civilization and revealed the truth behind the Conduit—that it was a mini-relay, a backdoor into the Citadel. I knew Vigil was the only chance to get a first-hand account of Prothean civilization, but I also knew we had no time to waste. With Vigil's permission, I took copies of its files and promised to return when, and if I was able to. We headed back to the Mako and wasted no time finding the mini-relay, then we launched ourselves through the Conduit in the hopes of stopping Saren, destroying Sovereign, and ultimately, saving the Citadel Council.

And that is exactly what took place.

I thought Saren's death would bring peace to my mind, but when that final confrontation occurred its outcome was lackluster. Through gunfire and missiles, Shepard brazenly challenged Saren's motives, his actions, and ultimately his undisguised indoctrination. The Commander's words and conviction burrowed their way through Sovereign's choke hold over Saren, and in a last act to attain some redemption—regain some of what he once was—the turian Spectre killed himself.

I was outraged by the turian's end, outraged that Shepard had talked him down rather than fight, and outraged that I had been denied the right to kill him myself. My fury had barely been containable. The one who laid the ground for my mother's death should have writhed in agony before finding the endless reprieve of death.

Ego, pride, and vanity. The Citadel Council embraced all of those traits when, two weeks after the Battle for the Citadel, they sent Shepard and the _Normandy_ to the Terminus System to hunt geth.

Garrus, Tali and I had stayed on the _Normandy_ and we were there when an unidentified space craft fired upon us. Within a matter of minutes the frigate was disabled and we had to abandon the ship. I was in the med lab, so I had been able to gather my most valuable items – my research data.

From the escape pod, I watched as the _Normandy _was torn asunder by what I know now to be a collector ship. The frigate's incredible mass ripped apart amidst celestial bodies of the Terminus system sending burning debris in every direction. After being on-board for so long, it was both bizarre and enthralling to see the frigate scattered across the obsidian backdrop of starry space. The site was perversely beautiful.

From the reports over the interlinked comms, the majority of the crew had been able to make it to the escape pods. Not Shepard though. The Commander had proceeded to get spaced while saving that fool of a pilot.

When I heard the news, I looked back out to the debris field. It became hard to swallow when I thought of the Spectre drifting along with the wreckage of the _Normandy_, utterly alone.

I knew that within a matter of minutes of being jettisoned into space, Commander Shepard was dead. The trail of the human's deeds had been cut short in an instant.


End file.
